Thirty-two

Dare shrugged off the inauspicious start and focused on catching his quarry. They rounded the Isle of Wight and sailed into the channel. Far on the horizon were two ships. One of them had to be the Kestrel.

He took a bearing and set his course. Attacking a merchant vessel flying an American flag was against maritime law. He would face charges unless he could prove his claim that the captain was the traitor Harcourt—something that would be difficult.

No matter. Dare would face Harcourt and deal with the consequences later. There was no other option. If he had to break every naval law and become the basest of pirates, he would do it.

Dare walked to the worn wood railing of the quarterdeck. At least he had the Lady Kate. He had never captained a ship in which he had more confidence. She was fast, sure, and surprisingly strong. She could be a bit temperamental if not treated right, but for those who knew their craft, the Lady Kate was the best ship a captain could want.

“Let them fly. Full sheets to the wind,” Darington commanded.

“Stiff wind,” commented his first mate, giving voice to his concerns.

“You doubt my powers of observation, Mr. Everett?” Dare gave him a cold look.

“Nay, Cap’n. Full sheets to the wind!” called the first mate. The cries were taken up and the top sails unfurled without further incident.

The Lady Kate crested and fell as she sliced through the waves. Dare held his ground as the ship creaked loudly and tilted hard to the port side. A few of the crew looked at each other as they grabbed the railing, and Dare felt more than one pair of eyes on him, silently asking if he was trying to kill them within a league of the shore.

Dare ignored them. He knew what his Kate could do.

He lifted a glass and swept the horizon for a glimpse of his quarry and narrowed in on a speck on the horizon. Determination soared. He was close to ending Harcourt’s reign of terror. Even pushing their speed, night would fall before they caught up with the Kestrel. That could be beneficial, since Harcourt would not be able to identify the Lady Kate in the darkness and be warned that Dare was on the hunt. This time, Dare had the upper hand.

The shouts and guffaws of some of his unruly men caught his attention, and he glared at the men in question. They were staring at another ship that had emerged from the harbor into the channel. This was not the conduct he appreciated in a controlled crew. He turned back to the horizon but was distracted by shouts of, “Get her! Don’t let her go! I’ll take you, sweetheart.”

Dare raised an eyebrow to Everett, who explained. “Apparently there is a commotion aboard the Rooster. A woman is being chased across decks.”

Finally, out of sheer curiosity, Dare turned his glass to the Rooster behind them. He focused on the form of a woman, struggling in the arms of a sailor.

Dare’s blood ran to ice.

It was Emma St. James.

* * *

“Let’s get to know each other better.”

Emma perched on a chair in Captain Grimes’s quarters. Warning bells rang through her mind, but since they were heading out to sea, there was precious little she could do about it now.

“Please make yourself at ease.” The captain smiled at her in a manner that was decidedly unkind. Emma feared she had made a horrible mistake.

“I would like to return to my ship, if you please,” said Emma firmly.

“Ah, now, a prime article like you? You’ll be much happier here wi’ me.”

“No! I must insist that you either help me reach my ship, or return me to the shore. Let me be clear: I do not wish for your advances.” Emma’s heart beat in her throat.

“Ah, now, I know I got some years on me, but once you get to know me, you’ll like me better.” The captain moved his chair closer and put a hand on her knee, slowly sliding it up her thigh and squeezing.

Emma stared at the man’s hand on her thigh, too shocked and scared to move. Silently, she prayed as the man leaned closer, the smell of whiskey on his breath. She had always believed that the Lord was with her, that he would save her. She had always tried to do the right thing. And look what it got her. She was trapped on a strange boat, with some lecherous captain, and none of it was fair.

There could only be one conclusion. Either God wasn’t watching, or he just didn’t care. Perhaps Dare had been right all along.

Tears sprang to her eyes. More from the thought that the Lord had abandoned her at the moment she needed divine protection most, than at the prospect of being mauled by some elderly lecher.

Emma blinked back the tears in disgust. If this is what being good got her, it was time to start being bad. A cold, calculating chill spread through her, starting with her soul. She looked at the captain and forced a smile. “Why, Captain, I thought you would never ask. Can you assure our privacy?” She motioned to the cabin door.

“No one will disturb us.”

“Oh, but I do prefer a locked door.”

“Well, what the lady wants, the lady gets,” said Captain Grimes, wiping a line of drool from his mouth. He stood and walked to the cabin door, and she took the opportunity of his momentary distraction to grab the heavy brass lantern off the table and creep up behind him. Her heart pounded, but she silenced it with disgust. She would not be anyone’s toy to use and throw away.

Emma paused for a moment, but a cold fury at everything that had befallen her suddenly flooded her, starting with the accident that claimed her father’s life, the horrid way her stepfamily had treated her, the abuse hurled at her by Eustace on the dock, and ending with this man who could meet a vulnerable young woman and think only of how he could use her for his own despicable advantage.

With an unladylike grunt, she swung the heavy lantern.

“That should keep us—oh!” The man turned around just as the lantern glanced off the side of his head, bringing him down.

Emma gulped air, staring at the man at her feet. She felt an instant pull to tend the cut on his head but pushed down the treacherous thought. She was going to look out for her own interests now. The only hope she had was to somehow hail someone on the shore and get them to rescue her.

To signal for help meant going up to the deck with all the sailors. She took a steeling breath. Hiding here would not help her. She had to get off the ship. She held her back straight and wiped tears from her eyes. She would not cry before these men. This was her last shot. A long one, but it was all she had.

She unlocked and opened the door to the cabin and walked boldly out, leaving the body of the still-breathing captain on the floor, shutting the door behind her. She held her skirts out of the way and climbed up steep, narrow steps to the deck. Immediately, her presence was noted.

“Hey there!”

“What’s doing, pretty lady?”

“Come to spend some time with me?”

A man who looked to be in charge grabbed her arm with a fierce scowl. “What are you doing up here? Get back below. You’re distracting the crew.”

Emma held up her chin. “The captain is resting and gave me leave to get some fresh air.”

The man did not release her, but the glint in his eye turned mercurial. “He done wi’ you, eh? You can let me have a turn.”

Emma wrenched her arm from his gasp. “You best take that up with the captain. He wanted me back within the quarter hour.”

The man glared but stepped back, and Emma quickly moved away. She walked along the length of the ship, all the while conscious of the heated stares of the men. She needed to escape…but how? She proceeded to the bow of the ship and squinted into the setting sun. She leaned against the railing, holding on as the ship gently rolled and pitched. Ahead of her she saw the outline of a ship. She could not identify it, but they were close enough that she could see the individual men as dark silhouettes against the sun, attending to their duties. Since she could see them, they must be able to see her. But how to hail them?

She removed her bonnet and started to wave it back and forth, trying to catch the attention of the men of the far ship, without calling attention to herself. Of course this was no use, for immediately the men on the Rooster started to comment on her behavior.

“What’s she doing?”

“What you want, sweetheart?”

“I think she wants someone on that ship.”

“I got everything you need. Just lift your skirts and I’ll show you.”

“I gots to have a turn too!”

“Don’t worry. The captain probably let her come on deck so we all can have a turn.”

Emma waved her bonnet furiously, trying to ignore the comments behind her. She took a chance and, holding tight with her white-gloved hand to some of the rigging, she pulled herself up until she was standing on the railing and waved her bonnet back and forth, the ribbons streaming in the wind. It was no use to scream, for they could not hear her. She was not even certain that they could see her.

The ship pitched in the rolling waves, and she grabbed the rigging with both hands, her bonnet falling into the sea. She watched as it fell gracefully into the ocean and was immediately overrun by the bow of the ship, disappearing from sight. Would she be next?

She was grabbed from behind and screamed as she was wrenched off the rail and thrown down on deck in a heap. She rolled back to face her attacker. It was the captain, with murder in his eyes and a stream of blood running down the side of his face.

“Look what you did to me, wench!” the captain shouted. “You gonna regret that, I swear you will.”

Emma struggled to her feet and ran away from him, desperate to escape, terror coursing through her. Her feet flew down the deck to the other end of the ship, though she knew with cold dread that there was nowhere to go. There was only one way to prevent her body from being used by these men. She would run off the back of the ship.

The desperateness of the situation and her response shocked her, but she ran on. She was going to use her last seconds of freedom to make the only choice she had left to her. She was going to jump and try somehow to swim to shore. She knew she would most likely drown.

She reached the back of the ship and climbed up the railing on the stern. Her skirts got tangled, and she wrenched them free, but before she could jump, more hands grabbed her from behind and dragged her off the railing. She fought them off with desperation, tears streaming down her face, unable to see what she was doing or who she hit.

“Get her!”

“Tame that hellcat.”

“I likes ’em feisty!”

Emma punched and kicked and somehow managed to wrench herself free and run along the length of the boat once more toward the bow. The men laughed and let her go, enjoying her panic. She turned to the side and blinked back her tears, looking to the other ship. Had they seen her? Did they even care? They sailed along without notice.

No one was going to help her now.

Once more, she pulled herself over the side, and once more, rough hands dragged her back, laughing when she struck at them, mocking her misery.

Suddenly, an explosive noise shocked everyone into stunned silence. They all looked over at the far ship, which was coming about and drawing near.

“What are they doing?”

“They shot at us.”

“Take that doxy down and lock her in my cabin. I’ll deal with the wench later,” growled the captain.

Once more, hands were all over her, grabbing, pulling, squeezing, forcing her down the hatch. She was shoved into the captain’s cabin and the hatch slammed behind her.

Had the other ship seen her? Were they coming to rescue her or just doing some military exercises? Repenting her earlier lapse of faith, she sank to her knees and prayed.

She could hear men’s shouting above her and she wondered what was happening. The ship shuddered and bounced awkwardly in the waves. An unlatched window swung open.

Emma went to the window and looked out. Land was still in sight. Could she swim to it? She did know how to swim, thanks to her local pond and a father who thought it a harmless amusement. But could she survive the icy winter waves?

She knew her chances were slim, but her chances with the captain were slimmer. She quickly divested herself of her gown, knowing it would only drag her under. She searched the room for something that would float.

She would wait to see who entered the cabin next. If she were rescued, she would explain why she was in her chemise later. If it were Captain Grimes…she would jump.